


Lonely Rivers Sigh

by micehell



Category: Farscape
Genre: Angst, Fey!John, Gen, Hints of past nastiness (with Scorpius), Sweet in a way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-11
Updated: 2009-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-12 01:06:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had looked at him a little oddly when he managed to get a kiss out of each of them, even Pilot (and that had been even odder than Rygel, but far less disgusting).  Just for luck, for luck.  It wasn't like they couldn't use it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lonely Rivers Sigh

He'd calculated it as best he could, arns to hours being near enough that, at most, he shouldn't be off by more than an arn here or there.

He didn't try to explain Valentine's to them. He could just imagine their confusion (their disdain) if he did. But it didn't stop him from celebrating in his own way.

Little gifts; easily acquired, easily smuggled, easily hidden. Tiny little candies, suspiciously like Kisses, left on Aeryn's bed. A tiny bottle of bishur oil -- worn like perfume it gave you a pleasant tingling sensation for hours, put on food, an aphrodisiac (he'd had to check with Pilot on that one, and hadn't that been embarrassing, just to make sure that it was safe) -- left in the landing bay compartment Chianna liked to think was a secret hiding place. The Delvian version of a mini Zen garden, left on Zhaan's workbench. An almost-chamois type cloth, good for polishing Qalta blades, tied around its hilt as D'Argo slept (and he'd needed Zhaan's help for that, but she'd just smiled at him, not requiring an explanation, always far more tolerant of his weirdnesses than the others). The Nilla Wafer-ish cookies Rygel favored, put in the pantry, but with his name (carefully printed in Hynerian, which Chianna had shown him how to write, in return for one of the wafers) clearly marked on them. Pilot had been hard, little he wanted besides what he had, except for a way to get Moya to safe harbor. But John had untangled miles of Moya's bio cables, something it was hard for the DRDs to do, for him (and gotten Moya to hide him from Pilot while he did it). For Moya, he'd sung to her as he worked, rock songs she'd never heard, and that he'd probably never hear again, and there was nothing he could do to keep it a secret, but she seemed happy with it all the same.

There was also a dinner, the best he could bargain for (and what the hell, it wasn't like Scorpius hadn't just taken it from him when he liked, and this way at least John got something out of it), and even Aeryn, notoriously unconcerned about eating for pleasure, smiled and laughed as they feasted on memories from all their homes. 

Not his home, though. Not yet, John too much the optimist to give up hope quite yet. Far too stubborn to let Scorpius steal any more from him, even when he wasn't there. Or usually wasn't there. Not on John's sane days, anyway.

They had looked at him a little oddly when he managed to get a kiss out of each of them, even Pilot (and that had been even odder than Rygel, but far less disgusting). Just for luck, for luck. It wasn't like they couldn't use it.

And if he forgot to mention any of it in his journal to his dad, if he sometimes forgot not to call Moya home (he'd kissed her strut that curved out on the viewing window by the landing bay, making sure that none of the others were watching. She'd seemed happy with it all the same), and if he sometimes wondered if any of it was real, even the childhood memories that now included things that (might have) never been, he didn't tell anyone.

Or usually didn't. Not on John's sane days, anyway.


End file.
